


Fool's Gold

by Hambone



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Banter, Body Modification, M/M, Silly, Sticky Sex, make-up sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 00:17:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1760519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/pseuds/Hambone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Swindle negotiates his way out of trouble three times and Lockdown goes into debt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fool's Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by Tailgato on tumblr! Thanks and I hope you like it! I've never written something fluffy like this before so I'll admit to being a tad bit nervous.  
> This begins approximately three hours after the events of Decepticon Air.

Lockdown could not have appeared smugger if he’d tried.

“You seriously meant it, didn’t you?”

Trying to mask his genuine offense, Swindle smiled widely, a force of habit despite there being nobody around to see it.

“You know better than to think I’d lie to my favorite customer!”

“I’m not your favorite,” said Lockdown, finishing the process of setting up his defensive shielding, “and you’d lie to Primus himself if it’d get you something you wanted.”

Shifting uncomfortably behind the chair he was currently crumpled under, Swindle snorted, a rough burst of static laughter blaring through his comm. The movement, small as if was, prompted another round of laser fire to go off, picking back more and more of his impromptu shelter.

“Can you really blame me at a time like this?”

“’Suppose not.”

There was another clatter of machinery through the line and Swindle found himself becoming increasingly tempted to break from his usual enthusiastic approach to negotiation. He could see the little red targeting dots tracing patters above his head on the wall, waiting for another slip to alert the automated weaponry of his location.

“Speaking of time, you are actually coming aren’t you?”

“Ooh, testy.”

Lockdown grunted as another locking sound filtered through their connection.

“Hold onto your shiny, upgraded aft.”

Were it under different circumstances, Swindle probably wouldn’t have let the phrasing there lie, but as it was he froze completely for point three nano-kliks, listening to the heavy clunk of moving machinery outside the shuttle door, and then threw himself flat on his faceplate as an explosion rocked everything around him.

Confused by the smoke and movement, the lasers began picking out random patches of darkness in its primitive visual feed, focusing fire there until another shadow gathered its attention. In the time it took for three collective rounds to go off, Lockdown, heavily armored in repellant, non-field emitting plate covers, stomped into the room, stalked right past Swindle’s still cowering form to a panel on the wall, and ripped from within it a bundle of multicolored wires.

The effect was immediate; everything stopped.  

It was apparent to Swindle that his sometimes-accomplice had succeeded. Partially because every deep throated whine the engine had been making up to this point ceased, partially because Lockdown’s boot was nudging his helm the moment after.

“Did you burst a circuit or something?”

“Ha-ha.”

Swindle propped himself up on his elbows.

“My savior.”

The sarcasm was thicker than the still lingering smoke. Making his way to his stabilizing servos, Swindle brushed himself off, though the soot was thick enough to render the motion pointless. Though he usually valued his appearance before a customer almost more than the sweet talking which came with it, Lockdown was an exception. There was little he could do that would put the bounty hunter off; there was little that existed that was in a state of more disorder and filth than Lockdown at any given moment. It was one of the reasons Swindle persisted in seeking out his business, despite their differences.

“Really, though,” said Lockdown as they descended into the loading bay of the Death’s Head, “how did you of all mechs not realize that an Elite Guard vessel would be equipped with secondary flushing defenses?”

Swindle bristled slightly.

“It was only a C class ship! They aren’t supposed to have such advanced tech on board!”

“More like you were too busy ogling your swag to even notice something as simple as an interior motion scanner the size of my face.”

“It managed to evade my scrutiny, an ability your mug sorrowfully lacks.”

Lockdown didn’t even bother being angry. Kicking over a piece of debris from the prominent hole now in the front of the now wrecked shuttle, Swindle grumbled silently.

“Where’s your wash rack?”

Without waiting for a response, he marched off into the hallway. There could only be so many places on an augmented war bird where personal commodities were kept. That is, if Lockdown even kept a cleaning room. The very thought made Swindle cringe.

“That bad, huh?”

Refusing to look back, he shrugged.

“I only lost a few things to the guns, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“So it’ just your pride that’s dented. I gotta admit, I’m a little flattered. Never thought you’d grow a sense of shame around _me_.”

Swindle peered frustratedly into yet another messy store room.

“Do you even have a wash rack?”

Leaning up against a wall, Lockdown threw a thumb over his shoulder.

“Other direction.”

It would be.

“And you didn’t answer my question.”

He watched Swindle about face and force his way back down the darkened hallways with mild amusement. It was a rare treat to see him unraveled.

“Life’s full of disappointments, isn’t it.”

The room was surprisingly clean compared to the rest of the ship. By no means did that mean it was anywhere near Swindle’s usual standards, but it would do. At least the solvent was hot and potent. following him just far enough to lean with infuriating indifference against the jamb, Lockdown seemed to recognize the unspoken question.

“I clean my newer acquisitions in here.”

“That’s disgusting.”

Not like it would stop him from making himself comfortable with the facilities. Let it never be said he wouldn’t get his hands dirty if the need arose – he simply preferred not to refuel where he purged.

“I would consider it the opposite, actually. I mean, it’s clean here, right? It’s not like it’s where I cut them up.”

“Still disgusting.”

There was a scrubber hanging high on the wall, limp and well-worn but seemingly clean. Knowing what it had likely been used for beforehand made him question whether he really wanted to use it that much, but given that the alternative was to wipe himself down lewdly by hand, with Lockdown right there, he sucked back his qualms and took it down. Lockdown was just watching to ensure he didn’t steal anything. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Dwelling on why he was even worried about it brought to mind an entire slew of questions he was in no shape to deal with anyways.

Thankfully, Lockdown either sensed something in him or simply grew bored with the conversation and allowed the rest of his shower to pass by in silence. When he finished he was significantly less stressed, although still grumbling over the tiny dents peppering his finish. He wordlessly followed Lockdown back through the hall towards the bridge of the ship, refusing a towel because there was only so much a mech could take. It wasn’t his floor to mop.

“I’m gonna assume you need a ride?”

Swindle shrugged and mumbled, looking away as he took a seat. He was still dripping wet and it only made him more uncomfortable, aft squeaking against the scruffy metal. Lockdown stared at him.

“Okay, I get not being a ray of starlight all the time, even if you lost a little loot, but seriously?”

Receiving only a slightly confused glare, Lockdown braced himself against the console with one hand and loomed over his guest.

“What’s your deal? I mean, I pick you up, stop your aft from getting fried to a molten crisp, let you use my wash, and now you’re gonna give me lip? What is your damage?”

As threatening as it may have been intended to sound, it came off more frustrated than anything. Swindle flicked a remaining dirt crust off his wrist carelessly.

“Maybe it has something to do with the fact that 1. I am completely at your looting mercy at the moment and 2. I assume you didn’t come all the way out here and go through all that trouble for free. It doesn’t really matter how much of my haul I saved from the lasers because I don’t exactly have a working defensive artillery right now, do I?”

Lockdown baulked.

“Whaddaya mean no working artillery? You’re practically more augmented than me!”

Throwing his hands up in exasperation, Swindle laughed.

“If I had access to my augs do you seriously think I would have needed your help? I have a full body shield for spark’s sake! Those idiots in the guard installed an internal mechanisms lock in the shuttle too, _duh!”_

He regretted saying it almost immediately after, the realization that Lockdown had, in fact, not know of his advantage in the slightest only then settling in. It was too late though, and the words hung between them like a ghost for several kliks, neither speaking as they both weighed their options.

“Well…I guess I did this to myself.”

Resigned to his fate, Swindle shuttered his optics and lay back in the seat.

“Do what you want.”

“You think…that if I had the means to, I’d just steal from you?”

That was a stupid question.

“That’s a stupid question. Why wouldn’t you?”

Lockdown was genuinely unable to respond for a moment.

“It probably stems from my ability to be a decent Cybertronian being when the mood strikes.”

“When the mood strikes.” Swindle snickered, rolling his helm back to keep the light from behind his shutters.

“You literally capture and rip people apart for a living and you expect me to believe you have morals?”

He was shocked from his thoughts when Lockdown’s hand roughly grasped his jaw and forced him to face back. Lockdown was always serious looking but now he had an air about him, a quiver in his field, that spoke of a deeper sincerity than Swindle was used to dealing with. He attempted to reel back but Lockdown held him firm, mouth set tightly.

“I don’t rip off my business associates, and I definitely don’t rip off my friends.”

Swindle’s jaw would have dropped were it not being held shut.

“You think we’re friends?”

Or at least that’s what he tried to say. Lockdown seemed to get the gist of it.

“Well…yeah. Or at least I did.”

He pulled back. Swindling instinctively rubbed his face, feeling distinctly like he had just made some kind of mistake. It was a relatively new and unpleasant feeling.

“I mean, not that I don’t think of you kindly.”

It was a weak response and he knew it. For a moment the only sound was the quite drone of the engines and the steady drip of the remaining solvents on Swindle’s fingertips.

“Kindly. Right.”

Oh Primus had this gotten awkward. Swindle twiddled his thumbs a moment. Lockdown looked at the front view screen into space.

“So where am I droppin’ ya’?”

“What?”

Even though it should have been semi-apparent what he was referring to, it still took Swindle a second to catch up. He berated himself silently but it hardly mattered.

“Where did you last leave your actual ship?”

“Oh. Earth.”

Lockdown laughed despite himself.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

It was not a place that held pleasant memories for either of them.

Lockdown collapsed into the driver’s seat.

“Well. Fine. It’s gonna take a while though.”

“Yeah.”

The tension was palpable. Swindle wished his weapons array was back online so he could blast a hole in his own stupid face.

“I’m going to go take some time off then. Get some recharge. It’s been a long day.”

Normally Lockdown would have objected to that, giving him some short threat about his thievery, but he only nodded, focusing more on booting up the warp drive than his slowly departing comrade.

It did not feel good to be ignored.

There were a variety of rooms on the ship that were likely intended to be cells at one point but, given Lockdown’s increasing need to take souvenirs, had been left untouched for quite some time now. Several of them were equipped with wall slabs, makeshift berths that were not exactly comfortable but at least clean. Swindle was not above it at this point. He was potentially losing his favorite customer, he was blasted six ways to the Pit and back, and he really, really just wanted to recharge.

So why was it that when he finally got situated he could only think about how much he had messed up? it was an unusual occurrence for Swindle to question himself in any capacity, but to actually feel something akin to guilt over a statement made in the heat of the moment was as idiotic as it was idiosyncratic. He hadn’t felt guilty for a single thing he’d done in eight thousand stellar cycles, especially not something as forgettable as a muddled personal relationship.

He rolled onto his side. Personal relationship. When was the last time he had even considered something personal? So much of his life was about lies and cheats. He loved that. He loved the power his intellect gave him, the power his credits gave him. There was no other way he would have things.

It just felt a little cheapened without Lockdown’s approval.

And cheap was never good.

It had only been a cycle and a half when Lockdown felt the weight of optics on his shoulder.

“What do you want now?”

It he sounded bitter it was only because he was.

“Look, I know we both said something’s, did some things, but hey, I figure one of us should just be the bigger bot and get over this whole little tiff. After all, we do such good business together.”

Lockdown swiveled his seat around, astounded by Swindle’s obvious glossing over the real issue at hand.

“Seriously? Because I-!”

He did not have time to finish his thought, however, because Swindle took the movement as an opportunity and sat himself down nice and neat. Right in Lockdown’s lap.

“You’re right, you’re right: I am seriously that generous. But you already know that.”

If his strange choice of seating wasn’t enough to dry the solvents from Lockdown’s mouth, the simpering tone of his voice was. Even though he was still dented and banged around from his earlier mishap, he was clean and shiny and smelled quite good. It was…preposterous.

“What are you doing!”

“Like I said, I’m being the bigger bot.”

Swindle lightly rested his fingertips on Lockdown’s shoulders.   

“And since I know apologies are not either of our strong suits, I figured we could work out some other kind of deal instead.”

Negotiation. There was a skill he would always retain, beyond the well. There was not a bot in the known universe that would disagree, even if they had only heard of the arms dealer through tale alone. Swindle could talk his way from the jaws of the Unmaker.

Which was probably why Lockdown was so shocked that he seemed to have chosen a different course. Swindle shifted his hips ever so slightly.

“You – this is stupid. What are you even trying to do?”

“Lockdown, Lockdown, Lockdown,” Swindle pressed a thick finger to his lips.

“Don’t question it.”

Lockdown tried to bite him.

“Do you really think that you can flirt your way out of this?”

Swindle’s smile dropped.

“You are such a hard aft, you know that?”

He crossed his arms awkwardly between their chests. Lockdown snorted.

“You’re trying to make me forgive you with pity frags after telling me you didn’t even think of us as friends. What the slag am I supposed to think?”

“That’s not the only reason!”

Pushing Lockdown’s shoulder with playful roughness, Swindle tried to keep his tone light.

“A lot of mechs would kill to be in your position right now.”

Lockdown laughed darkly.

“Yeah, and I bet a lot of them also think you’re the salt of Cybertron. But I’m gonna be frank and say they don’t know an ounce of the alloy in your chassis like I do. It’s not exactly an enviable position.”

Gasping in actual offense, Swindle nearly smacked him.

“I’m trying to seduce you, you little prick!”

“I had gathered.”

Sliding off his lap, Swindle loomed, doing his best not to look as worked up as he felt. Lockdown saw it, though, and for all his trying to act aloof he paid closer attention than he had to anything in vorns.

“I’m not trying to do it because I think you’re dumb enough to let is seal our contract again, you idiot! I’m doing it because I want you to know I do…value our relationship.”

Trailing off, he twisted his hands suddenly, realizing exactly how obvious he was being.

Lockdown’s jaw dropped.

“Wait a klik.”

“Don’t say anything about it.”

“Wait a darn klik.”

“I told you to shut up!”

A smile began to tug at his lips.

“You are being totally serious.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!”

“You totally-!”

“Don’t you say it!”

“You totally have the hots for me!”

Swindle squawked defensively but Lockdown was right and he knew it. Leaping from his chair, lockdown began to stalk after the slowly retreating Swindle, waving a finger like a weapon.

“You, Swindle the slick, shiny, fast-talking, smooth fingered arm dealer, caterer to Megatron himself, want to shimmy down my seams! You act so damn cool, so sticky, and yet here you are wriggling around in my lap because you have a common crush and are too emotionally stunted to say it!”

“Speak for yourself, moron!”

It probably would have sounded more convincing if he wasn’t half laughing, but he couldn’t help himself. This was…this was good.

“You actually wanna touch this.” Lockdown gestured to himself.

“You wanna get your hands on this high priced material.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be driving the ship?”

“Autopilot.”

It was possibly the second most sensual word Swindle had ever heard.

All at once a sense of dynamism filled the air. Swindle, or perhaps Lockdown, slammed them up against a wall, and then Lockdown, or perhaps Swindle, kissed the other, and they whirled through the automatic door and down the hallway. The walls were grimy and discolored, flaking in a few places, and every time their wild entanglement loosened enough to allow Swindle to think he would push away from it, grunting into Lockdown’s mouth in disgust.

“You are not – mm – having me in this filthy fragging hallway.”

They spun around again, moving a few feet further down before pressing against the opposite wall with increased fervor.

“I’m not a slagging barbarian.”

Cupping the back of Lockdown’s helm, Swindle licked his lips, heavy lidded.

“Liar.”

Lockdown laughed and bit his neck.

Swindle had never seen Lockdown’s personal berth room before. It was surprisingly understated given the cluttered clamor of the other parts of the ship. A berth, some of the more decorative or simplistically useful items in his collection stacked around. A shelf with various medical texts. He didn’t have much time to take in the rest.

They tumbled onto the berth and Swindle winced.

“What the hell do you sleep on, bolts?”

“S’just a little stiff.”

Lockdown pounded a fist against the rumpled padding and a few screws shook their way loose. He turned up his nasal ridge to Swindle’s pointed stare.

“I don’t know how those got in there.”

“Shut up.”

Kissing was a more important use of their time anyways. There was a bit of fumbling and maneuvering, but Swindle did not try to usurp Lockdown’s position on top and it was hardly questioned. Lockdown bit; Swindle slapped the side of his head again but moaned anyways. Everything about this was so slapdash and sudden and he loved it, the kind of spontaneous action he hadn’t taken part in since before his physical upgrades thousands of stellar cycles ago. What had kept him from indulging all this time?

Lockdown’s claw skittered down his side, playing roughly along his seams. He arched away from it, screwing up his nasal ridge.

“Stop that! You’ll scratch me!”

“Aw,” Lockdown cooed, “you worried I’ll muss your pretty little paintjob?”

To make a point he intentionally scraped an already loose fleck of chartreuse paint clean off. Swindle wriggled angrily.

“Hey!”

“You’re already slagged, Swindle. You’ll need a new one anyways.”

Puffing out his chest and pushing the weight on it up, Swindle sneered.

“That doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want to it. It cost more than you’ll ever be worth just to get my last buffing.”

“That’s because you are a prissy little showman over all else, you snob.”

They snogged a few kliks more.

“Better than looking like a walking scrap heap half the time.”

Pushing his hips down into the protective plate over Swindle’s crotch, Lockdown laughed.

“But you fragging love it don’t you?”

_“Shut up!”_

They pawed at each other, Lockdown refraining from using his hook although acting like he wasn’t. Swindle hat thick, heavy fingers, and took great delight from shoving them rather painfully into the gaps in Lockdown’s augments, where they connected to what remained of his original protoform. Grunting, Lockdown shifted their hips together again.

“Take this damn thing off!”

“Ask nicer.”

Swindle gripped his skinny aft and squeezed.

“You little – fine, fine, whatever.”

He pushed his jaws right up against Swindle’s receptor. The arms dealer smiled, languid and smug.

“Take off that panel or I am going to rip it off. Love, Lockdown.”

Swindle rolled his hips up.

“Ooh, how can I resist?”

He sounded so sarcastic that Lockdown was a little taken aback, but then he reached down between them for a moment and with a few small clicks the panel was swung up out of the way.

“Happy?”

“Very.”

Lockdown pushed himself up on his arms and looked down over him. preening, Swindle swung his arms behind his head and puffed out his chest. His hook traced down his chest.

“I gotta admit, I kinda like you all banged up. I mean, the rough look doesn’t suit you but its kinda nice seeing your feathers ruffled.”

“My what?”

Swindle pushed at him.

“If you’re just going to make weird comparisons I’d rather you shut up and get on with it.”

“As if. You’d rather I do that anyways because you’re hot as a furnace.”

It was a spot on comment and Swindle knew it, spreading his legs a little wider. A sheen of fluid was already beginning to slick his thighs and his panels weren’t even off.

“Yeah,” he said, establishing a burning optical contact, “what are you going to do about it?”

“I dunno,” said Lockdown, sitting back. He opened his panel and released his fully pressurized spike.

Swindle swallowed thickly.

“Well then.”

He hadn’t even noticed his own panel slipping open until Lockdown traced a finger around the rim of his valve.

“Geeze,” Lockdown mumbled, pulling his thumb down the center, “I don’t say this to a lot of mechs, but you’re pretty all over.”

Drawing it up to his face, he licked the digit clean with a slick pop.

“And wet.”

Wanting to retaliate but for once not having the words, Swindle squirmed.

“Shut up and do me already.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Shoving two of his fingers inside abruptly, Lockdown purred.

“Damn, is this augmented?”

Again swelling with pride, albeit this time accented by a soft moan, Swindle rolled his hips up into the movement.

“Nope. All one hundred percent genuine original make right there.”

 Rubbing his thumb around the exterior node, Lockdown laughed.

“Swin, shut up. I’m fragging you, not trying to buy it.”

“You shut up,” Swindle arched his back, “you’re earning this one way or another!”

“Earning?”

Lockdown laughed, curling his fingers just so and making Swindle’s enormous optics flicker.

“I thought _you_ were trying to make up to _me_ with this!”

“Bygones, bygones,” Swindle snickered, digging his heels into the berth to better angle himself.

“Damn that’s good.”

Lockdown’s spike strained upwards. While Swindle was perfectly happy to luxuriate under his blunt ministrations, he was interested in the obvious modding against the black ridges and couldn’t help himself. it was a little awkward maneuvering into a more upright position with Lockdown’s fingers still flexing inside him (it was a little awkward to _think,_ if anything) but he managed, Lockdown accommodating as he recognized what those greedy servos were reaching for.

“Yeah,” he was mumbling, but Swindle hardly heard him. to say Lockdown’s spike must have cost a pretty penny was an understatement. It was blunt headed, like most Autobot spikes, but heavily ridged and lighted, small bumps and rivets encircling it in varied rings. Near the base of the head he had several softer spines, like an animal. Swindle stroked them and he growled.

“Like that?”

It as breathy and warm against his receptor, breaking off as Lockdown began to sloppily mouth his neck. Swindle felt it almost distantly, optics glazing over as he focused on tracing his fingers around each connecting modification.

“How much did this cost?”

“Mmn?”

Lockdown was hardly coherent, jaws full of Swindle’s shoulder casing.

“Your spike. It’s so…richly enhanced!”

“You _do_ like it!”

The exuberant way Swindle’s fingers played up the base spoke for itself. His hips were still shuddering, Lockdown twisting a third finger inside, but all his attention was on the augmented piece in his hands. His valve rippled around Lockdown, a new shudder wracking his frame every time he found a new place Lockdown had installed a charge node, a catching seam, the signs of old welding pulling groans from his vocalizer.

“Primus this must have, this must have been a lot.”

“It was worth every credit.”

“I’ll bet.”

Swindle’s wide optics were even wider than usual, entranced.

“Feels even better on the inside. Ya’know, assuming you aren’t gonna cum yourself into a puddle just lookin’ at it.”

The comment earned him a pinch hard enough to make him jump, but he laughed anyways. Swindle sneered.

“Fine then. Have it your way.”

He pulled away, jerking Lockdown’s fingers from inside himself and again laying back, spreading his thighs wide.

“Come on, then, if you’re so great. Show me.”

It was less an invitation than a challenge. And Lockdown took it.

He dove into Swindle, fat spike pushing, hot and heavy, through his thin valve like nothing, a hot blade on gold. Swindle moan languidly, clenching around him, pushing himself up on both hands to better accommodate as he was perfectly, wonderfully stuffed. Dealing with Decepticons led to one gaining an appreciation for a size that was just beneath too big, and Swindle had walked the line plenty of times. This, though, this was almost too good.

It was probably the mods, regardless of the size, the stretch, Swindle could feel each little tickle as he was penetrated. The bumps and ridges pulled as his nodes perfectly, something sending little bolts of charge through him in quiet, enticing zings.

“That-that’s, that’s perfect!”

“I know.”

Swindle snarled at Lockdown, wrapping his hands around the back of his wide neck.

“The mods, you idiot, not…”

“It’s all me anyways, Swin. If you didn’t count the mods, there’d be, slag, damn, damn, there’d be nothing to count-!”

Augmented or not, Swindle knew his way around a spike. His calipers, practiced and trained, closed and released in a strong rolling pattern, practically kneading Lockdown as his hips popped up into the motion. Lockdown hissed, tight lipped.

“That is so not f-fair!”

“Fair was never part of the deal.”

Again in possession of the upper hand, Swindle allowed his optics to shutter slowly, pleased. Lockdown felt good inside him, but he was better. If their business life didn’t survive beyond this at least their newly formed intimate one would. He moaned sweetly.

“Perfect, isn’t it?”

“Stuff it.”

Every thrust tugged just right. The little spines dredged up wells of lubricant, dragging gently through the crackling charge inside him. Lockdown had been right; he _was_ wet. Soaking. The friction built, burning as electricity bounced between them. It seemed inappropriate but Swindle laughed anyways, not in jest or parody of pleasure but real, genuine happiness. It was unprecedented and new and whatever it was passed unspoken between them, just felt, Lockdown pushing harder against him as his spike swelled in anticipation.

Knocking his knees together over Lockdown’s skinny spine, Swindle threw his helm back in one long gasping cackle as he came. Lockdown grunted, the patterned clenching of Swindle’s valve beneath him turning chaotic in his passion, and bit down hard on his neck cables as he followed shortly after. It was wet and messy, the kind of thing Swindle abhorred in any other circumstance, but right now it was exactly what he needed. Closure; disgusting, base and vile closure. As if personal relationships really were worth investing in.

They sagged together, Lockdown rolling on his side after Swindle had jabbed him in the gut three or four times with his elbow.

“Well that was…” Lockdown panted harshly, “that was pretty nice. I think I can forgive you for being a piece of rusted out scrap metal now.”

“I knew you would.”

All this real smiling, not the fake kind he used on his customers, was going to make his face ache. Probably cause metal wear too. What a pain.

“I’m just that good aren’t I?”

Lockdown pressed his face into the berth pad and laughed.

“Pretty on the outside, rusted out scrap on the inside. Like I said.”

Without looking he fumbled around on the side table for a moment, finally finding a piece of half-finished tech. Swindle watched, already half in recharge, wondering what the slag he was doing. Still face down, Lockdown lobbed it straight into the wall. It hit the switch dead on – the lights flickered out.

“I dunno how long we have 'til we reach your ship,” Lockdown grumbled, barely coherent through the rubber, “but wake me up when we do.”

“As if.”

Swindle out.

* * *

 

Lockdown stirred. Something was beeping. Blaring, actually. Not the alarms though. Some kind of report message.

He jerked awake, fell off the berth, and then jumped to his feet. The proximity alert. They had reached Earth.

_They_ or perhaps, _he_. Swindle was nowhere in sight.

“That filthy little cheat!”

Not even bothering to wipe the crusted streaks of transfluid from his thighs, Lockdown leapt across the berth and out into the hallway. Whatever he’d done, If he had left the ship he’d have to have taken a shuttle. Lockdown only had three, one main and two backup. They were still in orbit. He couldn’t have gotten far.

Sure enough, the red polyglass dial on his dashboard indicating a recently departed shuttle was winking away. Pound his fist in the console Lockdown swore colorfully, kicking his chair out of the way as he tried to find a trail of disturbance among the space debris around the ship, determine where he’d gone.

That was when he saw the note. Stuck primly to the front view screen, the tiny data pad was hardly more than a flexible display, almost invisible against the bright backdrop of the planet below. Two little words gleamed in decadent purple font.

_TURN AROUND_

Lockdown did.

It said something about his temper that he hadn’t noticed the large gun sitting quietly by the door when he dashed in. nor the rather expensive looking gauntlet beside it. Still a little sooty from their turbulent journey, they still gleamed with barely repressed affluence beneath the low light, clearly not items without their value. And Swindle had left them. For him.

_THOUGHT THIS MIGHT HELP SMOOTH OVER MY BORROWING YOUR SHUTTLE_

Lockdown snorted.

_ALSO I VERY MUCH HOPE OUR PARTNERSHIP WILL CONTINUE TO BE SO MUTUALLY BENEFICIAL_

Well that was clearly a plus. Smoothing a hand through the grime on the gun, Lockdown sucked air between his dental grill in a deep whistle. This may very well have been the least expensive couple of gadgets in the lot, but they were certainly hard for Swindle to part with. He shook his head. What had he gotten himself into?

That was when a shine of purple on the back of the note caught his optic.

_BY THE WAY YOU OWE ME 293,334 CREDITS FOR THE GUN_

_THAT’S AN EXTRA PERK I THREW IN JUST FOR YOU_

_TIL NEXT TIME_

_-SWINDLE_


End file.
